


They're not coming home.

by Scientist_Salarian



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 07:04:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3719614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scientist_Salarian/pseuds/Scientist_Salarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the war of the ring is over and Gimli returns to Erebor bringing news of Moria.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They're not coming home.

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of this picture from tumblr. http://sarcasticasides.tumblr.com/image/115439433641
> 
> The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit all belong to Professor Tolkien.
> 
> This hurt me to write, and it was also meant to be short.

Gimli brought news of Khazad-dûm upon his return to the mountain.

All hope of a joyous reunion died on the tongue of his father as Glóin saw the sorrow in his son’s eyes.

"Gimli, my star what has happened? Were you not victorious in your quest?"

"The ring was destroyed 'adad and the darkness with it. But it is not news of the ring or of the fellowship that I bring."

Glóin had watched his son, how the weight of the very world seemed poised upon his shoulders.

"I bring news of Moria."

Gimli could not help his anguish as he saw how his father’s eyes were alight at the mention of that accursed place as he knew with whom Glóin's thoughts went.

Óin.

Gimli watched as he father stood, tearing from the room in his excitement to gather those who too had their hearts turn to the ancient halls of Durin.

Gimli was left alone, his hands numb at his sides as he tried to think, tried to come up with a way to soften the blows, to bring comfort to those whose hope he was about to destroy.

Gimli heard the quiet conversations as Glóin finally returned, his eyes twinkling as he spoke with Dwalin. Nori and Dori were close to follow, the eldest of the Ri brothers almost seeming relieved to hear news.

Any news.

Gimli steeled himself as they all gathered around him, he rose from his seat and faced them.

He opened his mouth and closed it immediately. He didn't know where to begin.

"When we set out from Rivendell it became clear that our road east was being watched. Gandalf suggested the path of Caradhas, which was watched by the traitorous wizard Saruman. It had been my suggestion to take the way through Moria. The ring bearer then chose our path."

Gimli began to tell of their trek back down the mountains, of how darkness crept up on them as they finally came to the walls of Moria.

He remembered how he had frozen in awe as he saw them, how he felt his excitement grow as they followed the wizard.

He remembered how his hands trembled as they found the West Gate, how the ithildin shone in the moonlight. How they sat and sat while the wizard tried to work out the word to open the doors before it was the ring bearer to find the clue amongst the word.

He had been so foolish, so naïve to think that all was well, but his merriment was to hide his mounting dread as they were met with darkness and silence.

Gimli saw how Dori had begun to grow paler the longer he spoke, how the unease began to spread amongst those present before Gimli sighed deeply and continued.

“That was when we…”

He swallowed thickly, he had to be strong for those before him, he straightened and met their eyes, saw how there was fear in his father’s eyes, and how Dori wrung the hem of his coat in his hands.

“We had not walked into a mine, we had walked into a tomb.”

Dori’s hands had begun to tremble, the nervous wringing had stopped and his knuckles stood white from where he clutched at his coat. Gimli saw how Glóin had stiffened, Dwalin shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He saw how Nori had gently hugged Dori with one arm as the other had reached out to gently rest upon Dwalin’s arm. Gimli took a breath and carried on, describing what had met them, and then describing how there were other dangers.

The watcher in the water.

They had to fight off the creature, save the ring bearer and how their own choice was to take to the mines. How the watcher pulled down the doors and the roof of the cave and they were plunged into darkness.

_Now we must face the long dark of Moria._

Gimli closed his eyes as he thought back to the beginnings of their trek, how they walked down paths and tunnels some that were newly carved whilst others had their walls worn smooth.

He spoke of how they walked and walked, how they reached the crossroads and once more sat and waited while the wizard tried to regain his bearings.

The Halls of Khazad-dûm.

The great pillars that ran as far as one’s eyes could see, how he was captivated by the beauty of this place. He spoke of taking several long strides forward and was unable to bask in the majesty of the halls of Durin, of the intricate etchings and carvings of each great pillar.

“Then I saw the tomb.”

He remembered the cry that escaped his throat, how his legs had begun to move before he had even realized and he found himself before the smooth white marble. He ran his fingers across the runes and how it confirmed his deepest fears.

“Here lies Balin, son of Fundin. Lord of Moria.”

Gandalf had circled around, how he had found the book clutched tightly to the skeletal remains of a scribe. Gimli saw the first of what he knew would be many tears slide down Dori’s cheek, how Dwalin’s breaths were quick and shallow, Nori was stone faced and Glóin trembled.

“It was Ori’s book that… it, it told the events of what happened. Balin was the first to fall, killed by Moria orcs at Dimrill Dale, there had been nothing that could be done for him. The foul creature, the watcher in the water took… it took Óin.”

Gimli had to pause, he cleared his throat willed himself to speak even as his throat grew tight and words became difficult.

“Ori was one of the last to fall, he had written of those final hours, those final moments. They were trapped, he was trapped with the others in the chamber of Mazarbul, until they took up their arms and fought.”

He could say no more, there was no more to say knowing that he had put to rest all hope that his father, cousin, and the Ri’s had of ever seeing their brothers again.

Glóin cursed.

Cursed in each and every tongue knew, Gimli could tell how his father barely contained his grief and his rage, his left hand quaked as he clenched it into a tight fist while he furiously wiped at his eyes with the right.

He cursed Mahal and he cursed the pride of their line. He cursed Balin for leading and Óin for following.

He cursed both Orc and goblin and for a moment Gimli thought his father would charge from the room and straight to the gates of that cursed kingdom.

Gimli knew well enough this was how his father grieved, this is how he mourned him. He knew that his uncle Óin would have not wanted the tears.

His attention darted from his father to the brothers Ri as he heard a small hiccup.

Nori's expression was unreadable, other than the slight thinning of his lips. His eyes were red and he was taking deep slow breaths. He knew that Nori hid his pain, he could see in his eyes how he tried so desperately not to show how the news was breaking him on the inside.

Dori...

Gimli felt his chest tighten as he saw how Dori's entire body was wracked with sobs, his cries muffled by Nori's chest as his brother hugged him tightly.

He babbled as he wept and Gimli could hardly make out his words asides from the occasional 'Ori'. He knew that Dori had been protective of Ori, taking special care with the youngest of his brothers, ensuring that he had all he could need to live as comfortable a life as he could manage.

Dori had felt like his entire world was crumbling before him. His brother, his baby brother, the one that had a bright life and greatness ahead of him. Gentle, loving, caring Ori.

He felt sick, his head spun and it felt as though his very heart had been torn from his chest. He had latched on to Nori, he had to know that at least one was with him, one had been safe.

Dori had made them promise to be safe, even as Ori bade him farewell with a smile on his face he had sworn to him that he would be safe.

He clutched on to Nori’s tunic with one hand as the other fell to his side.

He wanted to go there, to find Ori to bring him home and lay him beneath the stone properly, not leave him cold and alone in the darkness of Moria.

New grief washed over him as he thought of his sweet little brother dying alone, taking his final breaths alone in the dark, separated from those who loved him. He sobbed into his brother’s chest and Nori, Nori did not draw away. Dori could feel how Nori shook barely restraining his own grief.

Nori finally squeezed his eyes shut tight as he took a deep breath, he had to be strong, even though his own heart was breaking. He had to be that pillar of strength for Dori to lean on as they mourned.

Worst of all was Dwalin.

Gimli saw how his knees wobbled before collapsing under him, how his eyes were hollow, brimming with unshed tears. He caught himself on his palms, staring at the ground as he tried to make sense of this.

This was not happening.

This could not be real.

He did not endure losing Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli only to lose his brother, cousin, and dear friend. There was nothing but truth in Gimli’s eyes, conviction in his words and Dwalin knew.

He had known, he had felt it, the sense of dread and foreboding that settled in his gut.

He clenched a great fist and drove it into the floor. His was a storm of emotion, rage, sadness, utter agony at the thought that his brother had died alone so far from home.

Dwalin's great shoulders began to shake as he let out a moan of despair, holding his faces in his hands as he began to sob. Gimli saw how Nori reached out, his hand smoothing over Dwalin’s shoulder. He almost expected for Dwalin to shrug him away instead he leaned into it.

Nori held his brother to him, resting his head against Dori’s as he squeezed Dwalin’s shoulder tightly.

Dwalin lost himself completely in his grief, bowing forward as he trembled. He felt sick, he could taste the bile in his mouth as shook. He was not one to show weakness but he had not felt a loss like this since his parents, since Thorin and those two boys. Each time he had Balin there to help him, to support him through the loss.

And now he was left alone to mourn Balin.

This was not how it should have been, this is not how it should have been. They were meant to prosper, Balin was meant to write to them and tell them of the splendour of the halls and how maybe, just maybe the mansion of the dwarves would return to its former glory.

It wasn’t meant to crumble, to turn to ruin and ash before them.

They promised they would be safe, they swore that they would be safe.

Dwalin looked up at Gimli, finally calm enough to drop his hands numbly in his lap as he stared at his youngest cousin. Beside him Dori’s sobs had died to soft cries as he had no voice left for tears. Glóin was stoned faced and angry, and Nori… Nori kept his hand on Dwalin’s shoulder and his arm around his brother.

“Thank you inùdoy… for telling me.”

Glóin had begun his voice gruff and suddenly quite tired. Dwalin said not a word as he stood and strode from the room. Dori finally drew away from Nori and looked at his brother before he too excused himself and hurried out.

Gimli shifted awkwardly, unsure what to say to either Nori or his father. The former bowed his head his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he too finally left. Glóin sighed deeply as he walked to his should and put a warm hand on Gimli’s shoulder,

“Have I ever told you some of the things Óin got up to when we were young? I think he’d like to be remembered that way.”


End file.
